Comin' Up From Behind
by Lyra Matsuoka
Summary: It's mayhem and matchmaking when Darien and Serena meet at a pool hall just before a billiard's competition. Written for the December Lyric Wheel on SMRFF. AU.


lyrasoze@hotmail.com  
  
AN: Hi everyone. So, here we have the song fic that I wrote for the   
  
SMRFF Lyric Wheel. I heartily recommend all the fics produced by that   
  
particular Lyric Wheel. Check 'em out at http://lyricw.lunap.com/   
  
Without further ado...  
  
Disclaimer: The song belongs to Marcy Playground and the nice people   
  
who wrote it. Sailor Moon and all the trademark entails belong to a set   
  
of rather wealthy men and one creative and wealthy woman. Cheers.  
  
Comin' Up From Behind   
  
By Lyra Matsuoka  
  
Rated PG-13 (language and themes)  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Darien Chiba was uncertain which part of the pool hall made it so   
  
entertaining.   
  
  
  
It could have been the atmosphere, cigarettes lending a smoky tinge to   
  
smell and a prismatic quality to the lights; nothing like waxing poetic about   
  
the only thing that made his eyes water. Or it might have been green-topped   
  
tables lit by cheap and slightly garish stained glass lamps. The sound of   
  
clicking billiard balls and people shouting at the television screen were ever   
  
present. Or perhaps the people, characters from all walks of life who strolled   
  
into the establishment to play pool, meet friends, and sometimes to break up   
  
with their significant other. Darien allowed a half smile to shape his mouth,   
  
remembering the last time a man had fought with his girlfriend in the hall.  
  
  
  
It couldn't have been good for that man's ego to end the altercation with   
  
a trashcan on his head.   
  
  
  
His thought process was interrupted by an unceremonious 'clunk' on the table in front of him. Straightening slowly, Darien looked across the table at   
  
his friend Andrew, whose attention had shifted to the entrance.   
  
  
  
"Punctuality, the forgotten art."  
  
  
  
"Haven't you heard?" Darien quipped. "The male race is protesting unfair   
  
pigeon-holing by our feminine counterparts by being as late as possible whenever   
  
possible."  
  
  
  
"I heard about that. The longest protest in history," Andrew finished with   
  
a straight face. He held it for five seconds before breaking down into laughter.   
  
  
  
"Ladies and gentlemen, a new record," Darien deadpanned as he reached for   
  
his beverage. He waited for Andrew to calm down before asking, "Am I allowed to   
  
ask what you bought me?"  
  
  
  
"It's beer. Don't ask questions, just enjoy."  
  
  
  
"Yes, sir, sergeant sir."  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Ah, She's an eight ball,  
  
She's a'rollin faster than a white wall,  
  
She's got an avalanche packed into a snowball,  
  
She's a losin all the links,  
  
She's like a stonewall,  
  
She's loaded up,  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
  
  
As he lifted the glass to his lips, Darien surveyed the crowd. There were   
  
the usual people...those who had gathered at the pool hall since time eternal   
  
and would probably haunt the place after they died. The bartender was someone   
  
new, but he didn't seem to have trouble keeping up with the drink orders being   
  
shouted at him over the groans and spontaneous cheers that the televised   
  
football game seemed to produce.   
  
  
  
"Hello there, gentlemen!" came the cheery salutation. Greg and Chad had   
  
arrived, good spirits and the promise of an entertaining evening sparkling in   
  
their eyes.   
  
  
  
"Shall we skip right to the interesting portion of our evening?"   
  
  
  
Greg nodded and Chad grinned. Darien rolled his eyes and took another   
  
drink.  
  
  
  
Chad held up a hand first. "Pause for a moment. Who bought the first   
  
round?" Andrew raised one finger from his glass and he drank. "All right then.   
  
I'll take the second round. Greg, do you want the third or the fourth?"  
  
  
  
"Third."  
  
  
  
"I'll take the fourth," Darien volunteered. Looks ranging from sardonic   
  
amusement to mock horror turned his way. He grinned. "What did I say?"  
  
  
  
"You can pay, but we get to select the beverage," Greg stated calmly.   
  
  
  
"Careful boys, or I may start to believe that you find my taste in   
  
cocktails lacking."  
  
  
  
"Not at all, my good fellow," Chad interjected. "However, the majority of   
  
us like to retain most of the nerve endings and taste buds in our mouths."  
  
  
  
"Drinking lighter fluid is something that must be planned for."  
  
  
  
"I only drink lighter fluid on very special occasions," Darien inserted.   
  
His protestations were met with shaking heads.  
  
  
  
"Darien, straight alcohol with a splash of orange juice is the same   
  
consistency as lighter fluid. For God's sake, you could strip paint with your   
  
version of a Manhattan."  
  
  
  
"Could and does," Chad interjected. "He should market that mix as a   
  
cleaning solution."  
  
  
  
Darien shook his head and took another drink.   
  
  
  
"So," he interjected, "is someone going to hand over his driver's license   
  
and receive pool cues and triangle in return?"  
  
  
  
All eyes turned to Chad, whose eyes were glued to the stick figures   
  
running around a green square on the television screen. "Right, I'll go get the   
  
stuff," he muttered. Greg raised an eyebrow as Chad navigated the clumps of   
  
people without ever taking his eyes off the screen.   
  
  
  
"How does he do that?" Greg mused. No one answered. Three minutes later,   
  
Chad returned, pool cues in one hand, triangle dangling around one wrist. Andrew   
  
pushed himself back from the round counter and joined Chad by the green felt   
  
covered table. Darien and Greg watched as Andrew broke, sending the red solid   
  
spinning into the bottom left corner pocket.   
  
  
  
"Should we flip a coin to see who plays the winner?" Greg joked. Darien   
  
grinned and glanced toward the door. Greg's eyes followed his and they sat   
  
watching the people who entered. Chad sauntered over as Andrew contemplated his   
  
next move.   
  
  
  
"Pick a number," Chad threw out.   
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
She's the underdog,  
  
Gonna take a mighty swipe  
  
At the high horse,  
  
While'a sippin on her tricks  
  
In a pitfall,  
  
Makin eyes at the girls like bullfrogs,  
  
I'm telling you, sir,  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
"Come again?" Greg asked, bewildered.   
  
  
  
"Pick a number. Something between one and ten."  
  
  
  
"Four," Greg said, shrugging his shoulders.  
  
  
  
"Good. Now, watch the door. Fourth woman to come through that door is the   
  
one you are going marry."  
  
  
  
Darien laughed aloud and Greg snorted. Chad shrugged.  
  
  
  
"I never pretended to be a Mattel Game Creator. But this is a fun game to   
  
play. You'll be laughing in two minutes, I promise."  
  
  
  
"Chad, do you want to play pool or do you want to talk?"  
  
  
  
"Duty calls," Chad said, turning on his heel and marching back to the   
  
game.   
  
  
  
"They play pool they way you play chess," Darien commented.   
  
  
  
"No, Andrew plays pool the way that I play chess. Chad sees the shot and   
  
takes it. Sometimes it works out and sometimes it doesn't, but he always takes   
  
the shot," Greg commented, swinging his eyes to the game. Turning back slowly,   
  
Greg fixated on the door.   
  
  
  
"One," he said aloud. Darien swung around just in time to see one of the   
  
waitresses enter.   
  
  
  
"I can't believe you are actually going to play that game."  
  
  
  
"I haven't got anything better to do," Greg said, still focused on the   
  
door. "Two..."  
  
  
  
Two was a rather leggy brunette.   
  
  
  
"Three..."   
  
  
  
A teenager in a flowered skirt and French braid peeked around the doorjamb   
  
and stepped hesitantly inside.  
  
  
  
"Is she old enough to be here?" Darien asked, concerned. The girl looked   
  
around and waved to someone behind them, a smile lighting her face. Less than   
  
ten seconds later she was joined by a young man of about the same age and the   
  
two of them left, holding hands.   
  
  
  
"Guess not."  
  
  
  
"Four...nope, that's a guy. Okay. Four..."  
  
  
  
An old woman in a florescent pink jacket with a lime green scarf around   
  
her head stepped through the door. She trotted to a table and exchanged high   
  
fives with a group of ladies dressed just as brightly.  
  
  
  
"Well, at least she'd be fun to hang out with," Greg said, fighting to   
  
keep a smile from his face. Darien didn't bother trying.   
  
  
  
"And I'll bet she could be persuaded to lend you her jacket for a Friday   
  
night with the guys," Darien added.   
  
  
  
Greg chuckled lightly and then turned toward Darien. "Pick a number, my   
  
man."  
  
  
  
"Four million, three hundred thousand forty two," Darien supplied, never   
  
missing a beat.   
  
  
  
"You stand up comedian you," Greg supplied quickly.   
  
  
  
"I've been offered a guest spot on 'Whose Line Is It Anyway," Darien   
  
finished off, his eyes on the pool game. Andrew sauntered over while Chad   
  
contemplated the angle necessary to send the striped blue ball into the right   
  
side pocket.   
  
  
  
"Darien had a girlfriend, right up until three hours ago."  
  
  
  
"Oh, really?" Greg asked, raising his eyebrows in inquiry. "And who was   
  
the lovely lady?"  
  
  
  
"Lovely, yes. Lady is questionable," Andrew muttered under his breath.   
  
Darien flipped him a snide look and reached for his glass.  
  
  
  
"I will thank you to keep your opinions to yourself."  
  
  
  
"I didn't say a word," Andrew replied innocently.   
  
  
  
"What's her name?" Greg asked.  
  
  
  
"It started with a B," Darien said before taking a drink.   
  
  
  
"She thought they were an item," Andrew said, looking back at the pool   
  
table. "Chad, take the shot for God's sake."  
  
  
  
"How long have you been seeing her?" Greg turned his eyes to the pool   
  
table and Darien followed his gaze. All three men watched as Chad slid the pool   
  
cue behind his back and tapped the cue ball with just the right amount of   
  
pressure. The striped blue rolled into the side pocket, and Darien, Andrew and   
  
Greg all applauded as Chad disentangled himself and took a comic bow.   
  
  
  
"They'd been out a few times. She seemed convinced that an engagement ring   
  
was just lurking in his pocket, ready to jump out at the first single woman who   
  
happened along. Darien was forced to inform her otherwise," Andrew stated as he   
  
sauntered back to the game.   
  
  
  
"And now I am free to enjoy the evenings entertainments with you fine   
  
people," Darien raised his glass in a mocking toast.   
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
She's comin up from,  
  
comin up from, comin up,  
  
comin up from behind,  
  
Yeah,  
  
She's comin up from,  
  
comin up from, comin up,  
  
comin up from behind,  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
  
  
"Pick a number, oh great one," Greg prompted.  
  
  
  
"Two," Darien gave in with a sigh.   
  
  
  
"Excellent. Now we sit back and watch."  
  
  
  
People were still pouring through the door, but most of them were of a   
  
male persuasion. After ten false starts, and a few comments revolving around the   
  
ongoing pool game, a woman stepped through the door. Her blood red hair hung to   
  
her knees and her green business suit snapped of control.  
  
  
  
"Damn," Darien said, turning in his chair. Greg watched the woman glance   
  
at the crowd surrounding the bar and then twitch her gaze to the pool tables.   
  
Her cold green eyes paused for a moment on him and then continued on. After a   
  
few minutes, she stomped her foot, turned on her heel and left in a huff.  
  
  
  
"The ex, I presume?"  
  
  
  
"Yes indeed," Darien said, turning back around. "Though 'ex' is a bit of   
  
an overstatement. Five dates over the course of four weeks does not constitute a   
  
relationship."   
  
  
  
"She's a looker."  
  
  
  
"Aren't they all?"  
  
  
  
"With you. Let me ask you something. Have you ever, and I do mean ever,   
  
had a woman turn you down?"  
  
  
  
"When I was in the second grade, a classmate of mine refused to kiss me   
  
when we were both riding the merry-go-round. As I recall, she punched me in the   
  
nose and ran off. Does that count?"  
  
  
  
"Sure does. Any other time?"   
  
  
  
"Seven hours ago a female vice president told me that I was a sorry excuse   
  
for a man and that I was the world's only living heart donor before she quit and   
  
slammed out of my office."  
  
  
  
"Good for her. But that's not turning you down. That's putting you in your   
  
place. I don't think that counts. Any other time?"  
  
  
  
"Nope."  
  
  
  
"Woman always say yes to you?"  
  
  
  
"Yup."  
  
  
  
"You are confident that you can charm any woman at any time?"  
  
  
  
Darien shrugged.  
  
  
  
"Then buy number two a drink," Greg said, pointing at the door with his   
  
index finger.   
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
You'd like her hanging  
  
Like a sneaker on a live wire, dangling,  
  
While your Wall Street pockets are jangling  
  
With the hollow jackpot of your rich kid games,  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Darien looked toward the door and raised his eyebrows in appreciation.   
  
Maybe the evening wouldn't be a total loss. Number two walked through the door,   
  
confidence in her stride. Long golden hair was swept back from her face and   
  
secured with a ponytail. Her clothes were basic, shorts and a tank-top,   
  
comfortable shoes; Darien watched as she walked briskly to the bar, leaning   
  
against it while she watched the door. She was waiting for someone...a date? He   
  
couldn't make out her face, but she seemed animated and excited.   
  
Shortly thereafter two other woman walked in and joined her. A night with the   
  
girls...that was better than a boyfriend in some ways. The blond woman conversed   
  
with her two friends before nodding and gesturing toward a sign on the wall.   
  
Darien glanced at the poster and then did a double take.   
  
'0 DAYS TILL THE POOL COMPETITION'  
  
It appeared that at one time, a pad of paper with numbers written on it   
  
had been stationed above the '0'. Now that the zero was prominently displayed,   
  
it was the day of the infamous Pool Competition. Darien made a mental note to   
  
smack himself. No wonder Andrew had been so insistent about visiting the pool   
  
hall tonight. Fabulous.   
  
Darien watched as the tall brunette who had been Greg's number two walked   
  
over to the front desk and collected three pool cues and three square sheets of   
  
paper. Numbers, no doubt. Looking at the clock, Darien noted that it was   
  
8:30...half an hour before the competition was scheduled to begin. He took   
  
another drink and stood.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
  
  
Serena Tsukino turned slightly, allowing her friend Lita better access to   
  
her back.   
  
  
  
"Stick me with that pin and you shan't live to see another day."  
  
  
  
"Terrifying words, coming from someone substantially shorter than me,"   
  
Lita muttered, concentrating on the number. "You start at table five, and you   
  
play number six. Looks like the numbers are going fast."  
  
  
  
"Perfect," Serena said, rubbing her palms together. "I hope there are a   
  
few new competitors. I need a challenge."  
  
  
  
"Challenge...right. I'll see if I can dig up an award winning pool player   
  
shall I?"  
  
  
  
"You are not nearly as amusing as you believe yourself to be," Serena said   
  
with a sniff, turning her nose up at Raye. Raye made a face in return.  
  
  
  
"Now one of you should stick out her tongue and the celebration of   
  
maturity will be complete," Lita put in dryly. Serena smiled and Raye stuck out   
  
her tongue, sending all three women into gales of laughter. Raye turned away,   
  
scanning the bar.  
  
  
  
"I need to unwind," Serena groaned, rolling her head back and to the   
  
sides. "I've had the day from hell."  
  
  
  
"What happened?" Lita inquired.  
  
  
  
"You haven't heard? Serena quit her job."  
  
"I thought you loved your job," Lita said with surprise.  
  
"I did. But a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do. It was time to   
  
expand my horizons, visit new places, meet new people..."  
  
"Are you enlisting in the Navy?" Lita said, a smile on her face. Serena   
  
grinned back.   
  
"Well, he tried to fire her," Raye put in.   
  
"I beat him to the punch. I am the Master of my Destiny and all that,"   
  
Serena finished, looking down at her wrists. "I left my watch at home. Anyone   
  
know what time it is?"   
  
  
  
"Gorgeous man at 3 o'clock," Raye said, turning so that Serena could   
  
attach the number to her back. "And he's heading this way."  
  
  
  
Serena turned her wrists in circles, loosing the muscles in preparation   
  
for the competition. Serena glanced back over her shoulder and chuckled, looking   
  
at the man Raye had deemed 'gorgeous'. He was that, but as Serena's eyes   
  
traveled upward, her jaw dropped.   
  
  
  
"Oh for God's sake," she snapped, turning around quickly. "Pretend I'm not   
  
here."  
  
  
  
"Why would we want to do that?" Lita asked absently.  
  
  
  
"The good looking guy is heading this way," Raye trilled.  
  
  
  
"The 'good looking' guy is my ex-boss!" Serena hissed, turning her face   
  
down.   
  
  
  
"Not the one who tried to fire you..." Lita began.  
  
  
  
"Tried? What tried? There was no 'tried'. He *would* have fired me if I   
  
hadn't beaten him to the punch by quitting."  
  
  
  
"Remind me why he was set to fire you."  
  
  
  
"She offended a client and lit a pile of important papers on fire," Raye   
  
offered, a wicked grin on her face.   
  
  
  
"That is *not* what happened," Serena whispered. "I presented the strategy   
  
to said client, and the man appeared interested, but when I offered him the   
  
contract he tried to hit on me. I turned him down and he got upset."  
  
  
  
"You told him he was a pathetic excuse for a man and that he should crawl   
  
back under his rock."   
  
  
  
"I refuse to dignify that with a response. And the contract was placed a   
  
bit to close to the ashtray. It was an accident. I swear."  
  
  
  
"And when she refused to apologize, the boss man tried to threaten her   
  
into offering said apology. But she quit instead."  
  
  
  
"Cleaned out my desk, left the office and called a headhunter. I start my   
  
new job in three days. And now the man himself is heading my direction. What   
  
have I done to deserve this?"  
  
  
  
"Karma," Raye intoned sagely. "What was his name, again?"  
  
  
  
"Chiba. Darien Chiba."   
  
  
  
"God, it looks like he's entering the competition," Lita said, watching as   
  
Mr. Chiba approached the desk and handed over the entry fee. "Number twelve. At   
  
least he won't be playing you, Serena."  
  
  
  
"Thank God for small favors," Serena said, relief in her voice.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
It's a longshot,  
  
She's got a troop and a tongue for a slingshot,  
  
But she's takin' steady aim  
  
At the bigshots,  
  
It's hard to miss the rolling-polies  
  
On the blacktop,  
  
You better watch your turf,  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
  
  
Darien walked closer to the group of women, his eyes skimming over all of   
  
them. The tall brunette had her back to him, the raven- haired lady in red was   
  
looking him over, and the blond was...hiding her face?   
  
  
  
Curiosity piqued, Darien walked over to the front desk and handed over the   
  
entrance fee for the pool competition. He accepted his number and the pin that   
  
went with it, and turned toward the blond.  
  
  
  
"Excuse me. I don't suppose you could help me pin this on?"  
  
  
  
There was no response from the blond, though the taller brunette began to   
  
cough rather violently.   
  
  
  
"Can I get you anything? Water?" Darien asked. The brunette shook her head   
  
twice and continued coughing. The second brunette came around to stand beside   
  
the blond.   
  
  
  
"Hi. I'm Raye," she said, proffering a hand. Darien shook it firmly.   
  
  
  
"Lita," gasped the taller brunette. The longer Darien listened to her   
  
cough, the more it sounded like laughter. Darien glanced at the blond, waiting   
  
for her to turn around and introduce herself.   
  
  
  
"I'm going to get a drink. You guys want anything?" she asked instead.   
  
Lita and Raye both stared at her, and Darien resisted the urge to laugh.   
  
  
  
"No thanks, Serena," Raye said. The blond stiffened, and turned slightly   
  
to glare at her friend. When Darien saw her profile, he lost all semblance of   
  
his good humor. He remembered that face. No wonder he hadn't recognized her   
  
before; he had never seen this woman in anything but a power suit and sensible   
  
heels.  
  
  
  
"Well, well, Ms. Tsukino. How nice to see you again."  
  
  
  
He watched the line of her back stiffen before she turned to face him.   
  
"Hello, Mr. Chiba. Fancy seeing you here; I didn't know you deigned to mingle   
  
with the commoners."  
  
  
  
Darien smiled slightly. If it was a fight she wanted, he was more than   
  
willing to accommodate her. "Set anything on fire recently, Ms. Tsukino?"   
  
  
  
"Not in the last five hours," Serena replied, all sweetness and light.   
  
Darien clamped his teeth together.  
  
  
  
"I find that hard to believe. After all, you seem to have a talent for   
  
destroying things. Tell me, does your current employer carry liability insurance   
  
on you?"  
  
  
  
Lita and Raye raised their eyebrows and blanched. Tapping Serena on the   
  
back in farewell, they scurried into the quickly forming crowd and vanished.   
  
Serena didn't seem to notice they'd gone.   
  
  
  
"My current employer is not an insensitive, money-driven automaton who   
  
puts the accounts above the employees."  
  
  
  
Darien looked down at her, seeing the flush in her cheeks and the furious   
  
sparkle in her eyes. He knew that his own eyes were cold, deadly cold. The two   
  
of them faced off, anger that had been held in check now straining for release.   
  
  
  
"We never had a chance to finish our discussion, Ms. Tsukino."  
  
  
  
"Oh, is the boss-man annoyed because he didn't get to put the Vice   
  
President of New Accounts in her place? I'll send you a sympathy card."  
  
  
  
"Because of you, my firm lost a prime account."  
  
  
  
"My heart bleeds."  
  
  
  
"You..." Darien was cut off by the announcement that the pool competition   
  
was about to begin. Serena stood slightly behind him, watching the hand waving   
  
of the announcer and the excited cheering and dancing of the waiting crowd.   
  
  
  
"Did I surprise you, Mr. Chiba? Did you think I would apologize to that   
  
snake in an Armani suit when I hadn't done anything to be ashamed of? Did you   
  
think I would be so charmed by your looks and your money and all the power you   
  
casually wield that I would cower before you?"  
  
  
  
He didn't want to admit that he had expected just that. No one had ever   
  
quit before. He had expected her to cave. The threats...well, he wasn't sure if   
  
those had been genuine. She had slammed out of his office before he had a chance   
  
to decide whether or not to make good on them. He took a step back and looked   
  
down at her.  
  
  
  
"I wouldn't have fired you."  
  
  
  
"Liar, liar."  
  
  
  
"True enough. You didn't give me a chance to decide on a course of   
  
action."  
  
  
  
"I like to change occupations on my terms, thank you very much."  
  
  
  
"I never would have guessed."  
  
  
  
The sarcasm in his tone was just enough to make her glare at him.   
  
  
  
"Do you hold a personal grudge against me, Ms. Tsukino?"  
  
  
  
"Not at all, Mr. Chiba. You have never been anything but professionally   
  
cool and inhumanly distant."  
  
  
  
"I'm not sure whether I've been complimented or insulted."  
  
  
  
"Whichever makes you feel best about yourself."  
  
  
  
"You really aren't afraid of me, are you?"  
  
  
  
"What possible reason could I have to be afraid of you? You are neither my   
  
boss nor a friend of my boss. I hold no stock in your firm and I don't give a   
  
damn about your personal life."  
  
  
  
"Ouch."  
  
  
  
"Would you rather I lied to you?"   
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
She's comin up from,  
  
comin up from, comin up,  
  
comin up from behind,  
  
Yeah,  
  
She's comin up from,  
  
comin up from, comin up,  
  
comin up from behind,  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
  
  
"I don't believe I have ever had an employee quit on me before," Darien   
  
mused. "I have to twist arms to thin out my typing pool."  
  
  
  
"Well, the medical you offer can't be beat. I'm going to miss the free   
  
contacts."  
  
  
  
"Why did you leave?"  
  
  
  
"Your client annoyed me. Your secretary annoyed me. You annoyed me. I hate   
  
to be annoyed."  
  
  
  
"And with such logic, life must be smooth sailing."  
  
  
  
"All right, Mr. Chiba. As fun as dancing around this verbal boxing ring   
  
has been, I think it's time to call it a night. I have a competition to get to."  
  
  
  
"Ah, yes. The competition. Enjoy, Ms. Tsukino."  
  
  
  
"Have a marvelous time, Mr. Chiba."  
  
  
  
Serena sauntered of to find her friends while Darien stood there, number   
  
in hand. Shaking his head, he returned to his table. Greg, Chad and Andrew   
  
converged on him the moment he sat down.   
  
  
  
"If I didn't know better, I could have sworn you just had it out with that   
  
lovely blond," Andrew said.   
  
  
  
"That 'lovely blond' was a former employee of mine. She quit a while   
  
back."  
  
  
  
"Wait, wait, wait. Is that the VP of New Accounts who torched a carefully   
  
and painstakingly prepared contract after telling the owner of a multi-million   
  
dollar computer software company that he should, and I quote, 'crawl back under   
  
his rock'?"  
  
  
  
"It was slightly more graphic than that, but yes, the very same."  
  
  
  
"You sound rather calm about the whole thing. Two hours ago you were   
  
livid."  
  
  
  
"She was right. I was insensitive and focused on the bottom line. And Big   
  
Rich Computer Man probably gave her good reason to set something on fire."  
  
  
  
"I don't believe it. You spent seven minutes fighting with this woman and   
  
now you see things clearly? I think he's coming down with something. The flu,   
  
maybe," Chad joked. He and Greg went back to the pool table, shooting balls into   
  
random pockets and cheering when the crowd around them cheered. Andrew stayed   
  
behind.  
  
  
  
"What's up, man? You look like you've just been told that all the share   
  
holders tripled their investments."  
  
  
  
"She just doesn't fit," Darien mused. "Not into any box I have available."   
  
  
  
"Really?"  
  
  
  
"Really."  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
You had her hanging  
  
Like a sneaker on a live wire, dangling,  
  
While your golden-lined pockets were jangling  
  
With the hollow jackpot of your wretched games,  
  
She caught your sick lie,  
  
It's creepin in the shadow of your white smile,  
  
Lurking underneath the cover of your bedroom eyes,  
  
Well, you're greasin' up the lance for your small-fry,  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
  
  
The contest had been in full swing for several hours. With two players at   
  
a table, and fifteen tables, the thirty-two competitors had slowly been working   
  
their way toward the center table and the golden 8-ball trophy. Darien had   
  
beaten his first two opponents easily. Now he was playing Lita, and she was   
  
better than he had expected. She played hard; taking shots that might seem   
  
impossible and looking for unseen angles. She was gracious in both victory and   
  
defeat, smiling wryly as he sank the eight ball into the left side pocket.   
  
  
  
"Well played, Darien, well played."  
  
  
  
"The next round put him in contest with the second brunette, Raye. She   
  
played with an almost supernatural grace, seeing advantages where none should   
  
exist and sinking impossible shots with ease. Luck was with him on that round.   
  
He broke, and two solid balls went spinning into the bottom left and right   
  
pockets. Raye scratched twice, giving him the opportunity to sink two more   
  
solids into different pockets. Still, by the time the table was clear of solid   
  
balls, Raye had been attempting to sink the eight ball for her last three turns.   
  
When Darien shot the eight ball into the top right hand pocket, Raye shook her   
  
head wryly.   
  
  
  
"Congratulations, Mr. Chiba. And good luck on the next round. You're going   
  
to need it."  
  
  
  
Darien turned to face the final table and saw Serena standing near the   
  
top.   
  
  
  
"Just you and me," she said, holding her cue firmly in one hand. The   
  
referee arrived, quarter in hand.   
  
"Heads," Serena called as he flipped it into the air.   
  
  
  
"Heads it is. Lady breaks," the referee said, and set the balls into the   
  
triangle. Serena broke, sending the balls skittering along the surface of the   
  
table. The striped twelve sank into the bottom right hand pocket, and Serena   
  
smiled. Another shot sank the striped nine, and another sank the striped seven.   
  
Her fifth shot missed entirely. Darien took his shot and managed to scatter a   
  
group of solids. The solid five sank into a pocket, and his next shot took out   
  
the solid two and the solid six, but he scratched, and so Serena took her shot.   
  
It wasn't long before the table was cleared of all but two balls.   
  
  
  
The eight ball was sitting at an awkward angle. It wasn't surprising that   
  
Serena was puzzling over how to take the shot. The crowd was silent, and they   
  
were also standing back from the table. Everyone could see, but the observers   
  
were giving the players room to move and make tricky shots. Darien approached   
  
Serena carefully, wondering how sensitive she was about her playing space.   
  
  
  
"Why did you quit so suddenly?" he felt compelled to ask.  
  
  
  
"You were being a chauvinist pig. I did what had to be done."  
  
  
  
"You could have just told me I was wrong."  
  
  
  
"I did. Then I quit," her voice was low and so was his.   
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
You wanna talk it up, do you?  
  
Well you're floatin like a royal balloon -- oh,  
  
Your ego's swollen to the size of the moon, well,  
  
I think you found somebody to cut you down to size.  
  
Well well,  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
"Do you always try to make such an impression?"  
  
"It was a message you didn't seem to have received."  
  
"What message was that?"  
  
"That you are not always right."  
  
He paused for a moment. That was unexpected.  
  
"Well, that's one of the privileges of being the boss. When you are the   
  
boss, you can be right all the time."  
  
Serena laughed aloud and shook her head. "About business, yes; about   
  
people, not so much. Eight ball in the corner," she said, tapping the bottom   
  
left with her cue stick. Lining up she carefully drew back her cue stick and   
  
tapped the cue ball with just the right amount of force. The ball went zinging   
  
toward the pocket and bounced off the rim. There was a collective groan. Darien   
  
waited for the balls to stop moving before he walked around to take his shot.   
  
"You think I judge people?" he asked and he examined all the available   
  
angles for his shot.  
  
"Not in so many words. I think you wrap them up into little boxes and then   
  
organize those boxes in your head so that everything makes sense. You like it   
  
that way; it's orderly and impersonal. But people don't usually fit into those   
  
boxes. You never seemed to understand that."  
  
"You make me sound terribly obtuse."  
  
"In a way. I don't want to lecture you. I'm not your mother. But you've   
  
developed a very cold way of looking at the world. Everyone notices. Ask your   
  
friends sometime," she suggested, shrugging her shoulders.   
  
"It seems you believe yourself to be an authority on my life."  
  
"You asked. I'm offering an opinion. Don't ask disgruntled former   
  
employees what they think of you if you don't really want to know. And make your   
  
shot, for God's sake."   
  
Darien lined up the cue stick and prepared to shoot, leaning over the   
  
wooden edge of the pool table. "Eight ball in the side."  
  
"Do you enjoy being pigeon-holed?"  
  
Darien's arm jerked slightly, sending the tip of the cue stick into the   
  
felt topped surface of the pool table. He glanced back at the damage, noticing   
  
that there was a good-sized rip in the green felt.   
  
"You're going to have to pay for that," Serena said, shaking her head   
  
slowly. "Clumsy, clumsy."  
  
As she walked around to take the shot he had missed, Darien found himself   
  
thinking back on the evening and the conversations he had participated in. "No.   
  
I don't like being stereotyped. But people will place me in whichever category   
  
they choose. It helps human beings to organize their minds and acquaintances."  
  
Serena leaned over the table, drawing her cue stick back. "Or maybe it's the   
  
worst excuse in the history of the known world for hiding behind a mask. Eight   
  
ball in the side."   
  
The cue stick tapped the cue ball with just the right amount of force and   
  
the eight ball spun across the table and vanished into the pocket. Cheers   
  
erupted, applause thundered, and someone yelled out "Fabulous display of   
  
Newtonian physics". Serena saluted the crowd with her cue stick before leaning   
  
it against the table.  
  
Darien smiled and nodded. "I enjoyed the game, Ms. Tsukino."  
  
"As did I, Darien."  
  
"Have we progressed to first names?" he asked, eyebrows raised.  
  
"I just beat your ass into the ground. I'll call you what I like."  
  
"Is the loser allowed to buy the winner a drink?"  
  
"The winner is too gracious to turn down a free drink."  
  
As Darien walked around the table, he reached into the side pocket and   
  
retrieved the eight ball. Polishing it quickly, he presented it to Serena with a   
  
flourish. She accepted with a strange expression on her face.  
  
"No one can ever predict what the eight ball will do."   
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Yeah,  
  
She's comin up from behind,  
  
She's comin up from behind,  
  
Yeah,  
  
She's comin up from behind,  
  
She's comin up from behind...  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* 


End file.
